Out of Control
by omalleyanatomy26
Summary: Set after the second episode of seaosn 4. Dean catches Sam cutting himself.Despite the tension in their relationship will Dean be able to save Sam before it's too late? Or is Sam too far gone to help? PLEASE REVIEW! UPDATED! PLEASE REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

**I'm just killing time until the SN rerun comes on which is why I'm writing so much :) And yes I've seen it before, seeing how I mentioned it in here, but there's nothing else on that I want to watch right now-since Grey's kind of sucks at right now-which I'm sad about. But yeah, onto the story! lol.

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Sam closed the door and sat on the toilet. Finally some peace and quiet. The recent events, the ghosts of the people they couldn't save, didn't help him much. The guilt that was always there was now He took out his knife and stared at it. It was a small pocket knife, but it was enough. He shook his head. How often had he done it in the past? There were still scars on his writs. He didn't want to kill himself, because of what Dean did for him, but he wasn't terribly upset about the idea of dying.

Until Dean returned. But still, the pain was too much-even now. All the secrets he was keeping from Dean. And all the guilt he still felt, it was piling on until it got to be too much for him. Plus the pain he felt was addicting.

He cut further from the writs. It was safer that way, and still satisfying. He grimaced as the knife went down on his skin, creating a little line. He sighed, already feeling better. The emotional pain already dissapearing.

"Sammy? You in there?"

Before he could hide it Dean opened the door and stared at Sam. Sam froze, the knife still on the skin, blood dripping onto his jeans.

Dean slowly opened the door more and walked inside.

"What the hell do you think you're doing Sam?" He said, his voice dangerously low.

"I..I..." Sam knew he couldn't weasel his way out of this one. He was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, so to speak. Dean just stared at him, taking deep breaths.

"How long?" Was the next question, catching Sam off guard.

"I...what?"

"How LONG?!" Dean roared it now, clutching his fists. Sam gulped. He was hardly ever scared of Dean, but this was one of those few times where he was.

"Since before you were killed," he admitted. Dean stared at him.

"Why." He said it as a statement, not a question.

"It started when I realized I couldn't save you. That I was going to watch you die, and there was nothing I could do about it. That pain, that sense of knowing, was....was too much for me," Sam said in a choked up voice, taking the knife away. "I wanted to see what it felt like at first. And I realized that I was concentrating so much on the physical pain, the emotional pain didn't bother me as much. So I..continued doing it." He hung his head in obvious shame, for being so weak. "And than when you died....I sometimes couldn't go through a day without...without it."

Dean took deep breaths, still trying to calm down.

"Give me the knife, Sam," he said, choosing his words carefully. Sam knew that now was not the time to obey. He handed Dean the knife. Than silently Dean went for the paper towel, took some, and pressed it on Sam's scar. It was than that he saw the other faded scars on Sam's wrists. He grabbed the hand and continued to stare at it.

"Dean let go," Sam begged. Dean ignored him and rolled up the other sleeve, while grabbing the other hand, and stared at it as well. "Please, Dean," Sam pleaded, tears falling in his eyes. "Let...go." He said this through gritted teeth and jerked his arms away.

"Damn it Sammy!" Dean cursed, anger in his voice. He swallowed the rage he felt. "I didn't die for you to do this to yourself!"

"You try living without me for four months and not do it!" Sam shot back. "You couldn't survive two days without me! You couldn't survive and you hurt so badly that you sold your soul after 48 hours. I had to live for _four months _without you. Not to mention that extra six months."

"Six months? When was that?" Confusion filled Dean's face.

"It's nothing...nevermind," Sam mumbled.

"Sam!" Dean's voice was somewhat threatening now.

Sam sighed.

"Remember that trickster? When he killed you over and over?"

"Yeah."

"Well I didn't repeat just that tuesday. I repeated the Wednesday too. You got shot on Wednesday and died in my arms. And I wouldn't wake up. I couldn't stop your death and I had to live for 6 months without you before I was able to track down the trickster and beg him to change it back to that Wednesday. So I had to live for months without you twice, Dean. You only had to live without me for two days." The bitterness in his voice was obvious. "So forgive me for cutting. For trying to make the emotional pain go away. I'd like to see how strong you'd have been this Summer, if I had went to hell instead of you. So don't you dare judge me, Dean. Don't you dare judge me."

_Smack _

Somewhat surprised he found a fist for a repsonse.

"I sold my soul for you Sammy. I went through hell and back for you. You don't get to call me weak. I'm not the one who's cutting, here Sam. Maybe if I was in your shoes I might. But I'd like to think I'd do what you would have wanted. And you wouldn't have wanted me to cut. So how dare you say I'm weak. You have no right to say anything like that to me. Not after what I've been through, Sammy. How d_are _you do this to yourself. I can't believe that you would be so selfish..."

"I'M being selfish?" Roared Sam. "You left ME, remember? Alone in this hellhole of an Earth with NO ONE Dean. I had NO ONE!" He stood up. "Of course I cutted. Of course I drank. How oculd I not? Everyone I loved had died. I was cursed, Dean. And I had to live with that. I had to live with that feeling because YOU couldn't bare to spend life without me. You were too much of a coward to be alone, so you gave me that burden instead."

Tears rolled down his eyes.

"Selfish? YOU don't get to call me that Dean. You don't get to call me anything. Or tell me what to do. You lost that right when you left me. When you abonded me."

Letting those words sting the air Sam stormed out leaving Dean in in a state of shock as he tried to figure out how the hell to stop and help his brother before it was to late.

Before he hurt himself, for good....

**Should I continue? I hope they sounded a little in character at least. This was kind of a different story for me to write, in a way. PLEASE REVIEW! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews! **

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**Chapter 1**

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Dean just sat there in horrified silence as he ran his hands through his hair.

_Goddman it! _What the hell was Sammy thinking? Cutting himself? Of hurting himself? His whole body was shaking in silent rage. He knew if he confronted Sam again he'd lose his temper. He had to escape, had to breathe. He got up and walked towards the door. Sam, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, stared at him in confusion and fear.

"Dean? Where are you going?"

"Out," came the harsh reply.

"Dean!"

Dean stared at him, and saw the panic in his little brother's eyes. He took deep breaths before he answered.

"I'll be back in a while."

Sam nodded, slightly reassured that his brother wasn't abandoning him.

Dean stormed down the sidewalk as he got into the car. He slamed the door shut. Than he stopped. He couldn't drive. He realized that his body was shaking too hard to drive safely.

_Sammy was cutting,_

_Sam was a cutter. _

_His own brother, slitting his wrists_

Dean shuddered, and swallowed.

"Goddamn it," he cursed. Anger was building inside of him. And not just at Sammy, but at these so called Angels.

If someone like Castiel really had exsisted and gone through the trouble of bringing him out of hell-why the hell didn't he help Sammy during the last four months? Gave him some sort of hope? Told his brother that they were going to save Dean, instead of watching him suffer like this?

Dean scoffed at that. That was probably too small of a problem for the Angels to worry about. They didn't care how depressed his brother was, as long as he did his job, right?

"Bastards," he said softly, half expecting Castiel to appear in the car again. He didn't.

He saw the shadow of Sammy watching him from behind the curtains in their motel room. He sighed and realized he was probably scaring the kid by just parking there.

Shaking his head he turned on the engin and pulled out. He needed to think, and it sure as hell wasn't there.

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Sam watched his brother drive off, a tear rolling down his cheek.

He wanted his brother to know, but not like this. He didn't want Dean to find out that way. Who would? He shuddered. If only Dean could understand the pain he went through.

If only he could _feel _what Sam had felt. Than maybe, just maybe, he might understand why Sam started to cut.

Sam bit his lip. Damn it, Dean took the knife. Now would have been a really good time to cut. Of course that was why Dean took it.

He flinched as the new scar, that still bled, stung him. He took the bandage that Dean made for him off. He stared at it. It was deep, but not deep enough. He wished he could make it deeper.

Suddenly he remembered the knife that Dean kept in one of his bags. Quickly, while shaking, he took it out. And slowly he pressed it against his skin. That felt good, but it needed it to be lower.

Lower was better.

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"Sam's doing _what_?" Bobby's voice came through the other end.

"Yeah, I know, I was just as surprised myself," Dean sighed, rubbing his head. "I said some things, I hit him..."

"You WHAT?!" Bobby shouted the last part. "You hit your brother when he was in that state?"

"He was cutting himself, Bobby!"

"Yeah, and right now is when he needs his brother's support the most! He doesn't need you two fighting, that'll make it worse."

"I know, Bobby, I know."

"I want you to go back there and apologize," Bobby added sternly.

"ME apoligize to HIM?" Dean shouted. "Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

"Damn it Dean, right now he's obviously not thinking too clearly. He needs YOU to be there for him. To let him know everything's gonna be okay. No matter what."

Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"Yeah, you're right Bobby."

"'Course I am," snorted Bobby. "Now go back to your brother, ya idgit."

Dean smiled and hung up.

Calming himself the best he could he slowly drove back to the hotel. But his heart stopped for a moment as he saw an ambulance in front of his motel door....

**Mean cliffhanger, I know, but that's to try and encourage reviews! So if you want to find out what happens next, well you know what to do :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the reviews! I have no knoweldge of this, though my best friend did used to cut herself. But the medical stuff I've looked up on the internet.

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Dean's heart started to pound so hard that he thought it was break his chest. His throat tightened. He felt sick to his stomach. The idea of loosing Sammy, after all this, seemed impossible to him. Unbarable, in fact.

"Sammy," he whispered and flew to the room, not remembering to shut the car door. "Sam!" He ran inside the room and stared a the paramedics leaning over a body. "No." His face paled.

"Sir," said one of them. "Will you please get out of the way and let us do our job?" He stared at him.

"That's my brother!" Dean snapped, pointing to the unconscience Sam on the floory. "So _hell _no I'm not going to do that!"

The others looked and the main one quickly apologized for the misunderstandings.

"What happened?" Dean asked, already knowing the answer. But he had hoped that it would be different.

"He cut his wrists," said one of the paramedics in a regrettable tone. "He cut it pretty deep."

"He's lost a lot of blood," added another. "So we need to get him to the hospital _now _before he has perminate brain damage."

"Brain damage," Dean murmured, his face paled. "That's possible?"

They looked at each other.

"It is if you lose enough blood," said one of them. Quickly he moved aside as they lifted a pale looking Sammy onto the stretcher.

"I'm riding with him," he said. They briskly nodded. There was no time to argue. He hurried beside them, trying to keep control of his emotions.

He froze for a moment, before heading inside the ambulance. They hooked Sam up to the machines. Dean knew better than to protest. He hated seeing his little brother so weak and vulnverable, though. He watched them bandage his wrsits to perfection.

_Brain damage _That thought still haunted his mind. Tears in his eyes he held Sammy's good hand and his body shook the entire way to the hospital.

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They left him alone. Alone in his fears as they rushed Sammy into intinsive care to perminantly stop the bleeding and stich him up before it was too late. He placed his hands over his head, rocking back and forth.

_I'm sorry, Sammy. _He whispered. _So sorry._

Again he repeated those words, hating the fact that he had punched his brother. Would that be the last thing Sammy remembered him doing? Punching him?

Suddenly a doctor had appeared.

"Mr. Winchester?" Dean looked up sharply.

"Yeah?" Instantly he was on his feet, fearing the worst. "How is he?"

The doctor sighed.

"He's sleeping right now. It's not great, but it could have been worse."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is he could have lost too much blood. He lost enough to substain some perminate damage, though."

_Oh shit._

"What...what kind?" Dean was almost afraid to ask. The doctor sighed, clearly unhappy with the situation

"We were unable to reconnect the tendons in his wrist."

"What does that mean?" Dean hated feeling like an idiot sometimes.

"It means that he'll probably never have any use of his left hand again." The doctor stared at him. "Ever."

"You mean it's...paralized?" Dean tried to search the words for it and the doctor nodded.

"It will be unable to fuction again, most likely, so yes. That is a good way of putting it.

"_Shit" _Dean hissed, rubbing his hand through his hair again. "Goddamn it Sammy!"

The doctor flinched at that.

"It could have been worse," he told Dean gently. "He could have died. We were lucky."

"Yeah, and I'm gonna show him how lucky we are by kicking his ass!" Growled Dean and the doctor gave a soft laugh.

"I see that you care about your brother a lot."

Dean nodded.

"He's all I have," he said, shrugging. "I'd die for him."

The doctor had no idea how true that statement was. The doctor nodded.

"Good, because right now he's going to need your support. He's going to need someone to help him through this."

Dean nodded.

"When can he uh, you know? Go?"

"Well our policy for a suicide attempt is a 72 hour lockdown with a therapist talking to you. That's probably what's going to happen to your brother. And he's going to have to remain here longer for the other injuries. So, I honestly don't know."

Dean nodded. He couldn't stop swallowing.

"Can I see him?" He whispered, sounding like a scared kid. The doctor nodded.

"He might look different," he told him. "I know how scary it can be, seeing a loved one plugged up to the machines. But you have to remember that it's still Sam in there. It's still your brother."

Dean nodded and sighed while taking a deep breath.

"Take me to him, please," He begged and the doctor nodded and showed Dean the room where Sam was staying.

Slowly Dean walked in...

**_To be continued_ **


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for the reviews! And to the person that said this story helped you stop wanting to cut, that meant a lot to me-just thought you should know :)

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Dean slowly walked in the room. There was Sam all right, but hooked up machines. His hand was also completly bandaged. He remembered the doctors warning, about Sam looking different, but still shivered. He sat down next to him, unsure of what to do or say. He couldn't really hold Sam's hand. It was too bandaged, and he was afraid of hurting it more than usual.

"Why, Sammy?" He whispered, his voice breaking. "Why'd you do it? You're stronger than this. You really are." He shook his head. "I mean, that was one of the reasons why I went to hell. Because I knew, or I _thought _I knew that you'd be all right. That you'd be able to get through something like this. I never was as strong as...you, Sammy. Never." He bit his lip. "I'm not strong at all," he added. "I mean, I caved when Allaister offered me freedom from the torture. I mean, you wouldn't cave, would you? Dad wouldn't either...but I did." He let a tear drip from his eyes, knowing that Sammy was asleep. That he wouldn't hear him. "I caved, Sammy. I broke, and I'm so sorry. I'm sorry that I'm not the strong big brother that you thought I was. I'm not strong at all." He bit his lip. "If I lost you...I don't know what I'd do Sammy. I _can't _loose you. So you have to stop, okay? For me. Even though I don't deserve it, you have to stop. Please." His voice broke at that last sentence and looked up sharply as Sam moaned.

"Sammy?"

"Dean?" Sam blinked as he came back to reality again. "Where are we?"

Dean's first instinct was to yell at Sam. To scold him, but he bit back those sharp retorts. He knew that would be the _last _thing that Sam needed.

"You're at a hospital, Sammy," Dean said, trying to steady his voice. "You...you cut yourself too deep..." Screw it. His voice shook anyway. "You nearly died," he added. Sam stared at his hand.

"My hand," he asked, his own voice shaking. "What's wrong with it?"

Dean sighed.

"You damanged it pretty bad, Sammy," he said honestly. "They don't think you'll be able to move it again."

Sam stared at him.

"You mean it's paralized?" He let the question be spoken in a whisper. Dean nodded.

"Sam, I'm so sorry.." He began but Sam cut him off.

"So I can't go on hunts anymore?"

Dean stared at him.

"What?"

"If I can't carry a rifle that means that I..." Sam's voice trailed off. "I can't go on hunts anymore. I'd be more trouble than help."

"I guess that's true," Dean murmured. "Not about the trouble part!" He added quickly. "About the hunting. At least for a while..Sam..." He stared at his brother as Sam turned his face away, the expressions becoming bleak and dull and sullen. "Sam, I'm sorry.." Sam looked at him oddly. "For hitting you...for taking off like that. I feel like this is my fault partly.."

"You _always _feel like things are your fault," Sam said softly. "And they never are."

Dean sighed.

"I know, I know, but still," he muttered. "If I had stayed. Talked to you."

"It might have been worse," Sam decided. "You were pretty pissed off," he added. "You might have lost your temper again."

"True," Dean agreed. "That...that still doesn't make the guilt go away." He shook his head. "Sammy when I came back and I saw the ambulance..." His voice shook again. "And than I saw your body..." Sam closed his eyes. "I couldn't breathe," Dean continued. "I thought for a moment that you...you were dead."

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," Sam whispered in an apologetic tone.

"Than why?" Dean pressed. "Why'd you do it Sammy?"

"Because the emotional pain was too much," Sam muttered. "Losing you...it was just too much. And cutting...I focused on the physical pain, which I could deal with, rather than the emotional pain-which I couldn't...deal with... I'm sorry, Dean. I wasn't as strong as you thought I was...I couldn't go a day, sometimes, without...cutting myself."

His throat closed.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"I know," Dean sighed. "What's done is done, though." He gave a bad attempt at a smile. "Let's just get you well, okay?"

Sam nodded slowly, his mind still on his hand.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"I'd like some time...alone please." The please sounded small and scared, and childlike. Dean stared at him and than at the hand and slowly nodded. He knew Sam had to deal with some things. And while he wanted to, he couldn't always help his brother deal with them.

"I'll be back soon," he promised and Sam nodded, almost sadly, as Dean walked out wondering if things would ever be the same again.

If _they _would ever be the same. It didn't look like that was happening anytime soon.

**I know it's short, lol. But it's better than nothing-right? :)**


	5. Chapter 5

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I said I would update some of my older fics, and I am :)

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Sam closed his eyes as he tried to move his hand. He couldn't do it. The heated pain made it impossible to move. He groaned and shook his head, a tear rolling down his face. Now he was going to be even more worthless than ever. He wouldn't be able to help Dean. What if Dean needed him? Needed someone with two hands? How is he going to type one handed? He couldn't do research, even book reading would be harder to do and would take a lot longer.

He bit his lip. He wished that he was dead, rather than handicapped.

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Dean nodded, as he listened to the doctors.

"So you suggest that he has therapy sessions while he stays here?"

"It's not a suggestion," the doctor said kindly, but firmly. "We requir it, and by law we have that power if we think the person is going to continue to cause harm to himself."

Dean nodded, not sure of the therapy sessions would make things worse or better. It's not like Sam could talk about feeling worthless because he couldn't go on hunts anymore.

But it couldn't hurt, and frankly he wasn't sure how to handle something like this. Normally he would have wanted to take care of Sammy by himself. But right now he was too terrified of losing his brother to think about trying to treat him at some motel-a place filled with sharp objects.

He nodded.

"It doesn't seem we have much of a choice," he said slowly. Suddenly a nurse screamed.

The scream was coming from Sammy's room.

Dean raced towards it, fear in him once more. He and the doctor stared in horror at the bandages that had been cut. Blood was oozing from them.

"No..."Dean's voice trailed off. The Code blue staff had rushed to the bed, causing Dean unable to see his brother. "Sammy? Sam!"

"Sir, you have to leave now," the doctor told him sternly. He pushed Dean out of the room.

"Sammy!"

Dean banged on the door as it shut on his face, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Damn it!" What the hell was his brother thinking?

Less than an hour later, the doctor came back to Dean who was pacing briskly back and forth.

"How's Sammy?"

The doctor sighed.

"We managed to stabalize the bleeding," he said. "It was on the hand that was probably paralized for life. Now it's definantly paralized, far too much damage to fix. But we did manage to save his life again-"

Dean sighed.

"But," The doctor said in a warning voice. "I'm not sure if we can the second time. We have him on 24 hour watch, and his hands are strapped to his bed."

Dean closed his eyes at the image.

"It's for his saftey," the doctor said. Dean nodded slowly.

"All right, can I be the one who watches him? Instead of some random nurse?"

The doctor frowned at that.

"It's a hell of a job, sir, to do that 24 hours a day."

"I don't care."

"Well you'll have to sleep sometime."

"Fine, when I do someone else can watch him," Dean relunctantly agreed. "But the rest...I want to watch him."

The doctor nodded.

"Very well, we'll see how it goes for now."

Dean nodded slowly, his body still shaking from the latest incident, his mouth still dry. This was too much. He nearly lost his brother _twice _now.

Slowly he walked back to the room where a nurse was keeping a watchful eye on his brother. The doctor had always walked with him and explained to her the change of plans. Slowly Dean sat down next to the bed and stared at his brother, strapped helplessly to it, as he slept.

It was than that a tear slowly ran down Dean's face.

**_TBC_**


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